Chapter 2
TWO
Alexia
The sign outside my old family home is red, white and bold, a cheery little announcement that feels like a personal attack. A customised eff-you from the universe.
SOLD.
All caps.
Sitting on the bonnet of my car, still mango-scented, I stare at the pristine front lawn of my childhood home.
The sweet brick house, the squeaky gate, the jasmine tree that smells incredible in January, the dents in the corrugated side fence where Leon and his friends bet I couldn't throw a ball from one end of the yard to the other. I absolutely did.
I knew it had happened. Mum told me the house had finally sold, that the new owners were moving in at the end of the month. I knew all of it.
But sitting here, staring at that sign, it's a hot, heavy weight on my chest, a farewell I thought I hadn't cared about, blindsiding me anyway.
I haven't lived here in over six years. Never back for longer than a weekend, always some ready excuse for why I had to be back in Sydney the moment the festivities ended.
When I got the call Friday about the Adelaide role, it felt perfectly timed.
Last few months of my doctorate, working on my future steps, a new chapter in the life I've carefully curated.
Perfect time to come home, spend time with Leon and Mum, in my new, more confident, more mature skin.
And, for some reason, I'd thought I'd put enough distance between myself and the three reasons I fled to Sydney that running into any of them would be manageable.
One encounter later, it's made blatantly clear: whatever growth I thought I'd cobbled together is a myth.
I groan into my hands, face burning at the memory, me rambling about being Leon's sister, wrapped in a towel, brandishing a banana, and then, moments after escaping that horror show, running smack-bang into Marcus.
"Please, powers-that-be, strike me down with a lightning bolt." As if on cue, my pocket buzzes. I tip my face to the sky. "Gonna need to be stronger than that, Universe, my phone vibrates harder."
It buzzes again. Oh. It is my phone.
I consider ignoring it, but with Mum soaking in a hot tub on a Titanic replica somewhere mid-ocean, I've made a point of always checking, no matter the hour.
Not Mum, though. The only other living member of my immediate family. The one who might wish he weren't living by the end of this call.
I answer without a word.
"Xi-Xi?" Leon says, after a few seconds of silence, apparently unaware how close he is to death, given he's using the nickname I've always hated.
I say nothing. Grit my teeth. Consider my opening line.
"I know you're there, I can hear you breathing."
"Enjoy it while you can," I finally snap.
"What? Why?"
"Might be the last thing you hear. Ever."
A pause. "Sensing you're not feeling entirely adoring towards me. Like you usually are."
"That's probably the most astute observation you've ever made, Lee-Lee."
"But why? Did I not save your neck by giving you somewhere to stay so you don't have to be homeless? That's the kind of wonderful big brother I am." A car door closes in the background, he's in an Uber.
"Oh yes, so amazing," I say, lying back on the bonnet, arm over my burning face. "The kind of brother who doesn't warn his little sister she won't be alone in his house, and instead lets her get caught by his roommates" — deep breath — "in nothing but a freaking towel."
Silence.
I take advantage of the rare speechless Leon to continue. "Oh, I'm sorry, did I say I was in nothing but a towel? My mistake. I also had a squishy banana held up like a gun. Which would've served me great if it had turned out to be anyone but your idiot roommates."
More silence. Then a muffled noise, then a sound like an emphysemic seal having an asthma attack.
"Are you... laughing?" I shout.
Ten more seconds before he manages, "Sorry, I — they didn't — Marcus didn't tell me about the banana!"
"What?" I screech. "You already knew they walked in on me? Then why pretend you didn't?"
Several false starts before, "Because I wanted to hear you say it!" He guffaws, nearly chokes.
"You and your friends can jump off the Harbour Bridge."
"Not my fault! And I'm calling to make sure you know you can stay at the house—"
"Leon."
"What? Stay," he says, once he can speak. "I mean it. I don't need my room, and I talked to the guys, they're totally fine with it. They're barely home anyway, between work and the bars. You're basically a little sister to them. They're used to you."
Like a little sister to them. Oh, wouldn't he like to know.
"I can't, Leon. It's too weird."
"Only weird if you make it weird."
How do I explain we all already made it weird, three separate ways, years ago. "It's already weird. It can only get weirder."
"Pfft. You're catastrophising."
"Where'd you learn that word, Leon?"
"I read," he says, almost insulted.
"Read what? Word-of-the-day toilet paper?"
"You staying at the house or not? Trying to wrap this up, I'm nearly at the Airbnb, and I'll need the toilet the second I get there, so decide if you want to stay on the line for that."
I pull a face at the phone. "You're so gross. No. I'm not staying. They saw me in a towel, brandishing a banana gun. I cannot come back from that."
"So what, then? Hotel till you find a place? If you've got that kind of money lying around, I'd have hit you up for an investment."
Buttwaffle. He's got me there. The PhD stipend covers the bare necessities, not savings, not luxuries. Not exactly expensive dinners and certainly not a week at a hotel.
"I'll work it out. I'll... sleep in my car."
We both know I won't. I like a bed. Given the choice, I'd rarely leave mine.
He sighs. "Xi-Xi." Register drops, big brother voice. "Stay at the house. I mean I might be gone for a month. So stay at least for the week you would've had if they hadn't come back. Please. Use the time to sort out proper accommodation. The guys really want you to."
Lies. That's a lie right there. I very strongly doubt all three of them want that.
Muffled voices, another door slam, he's arrived. "Jokes aside, you know I'll worry if I don't know what's going on with you. Can't relax and do my job otherwise."
I roll my eyes, but it's not an exaggeration. He's always genuinely cared, my wellbeing, my safety, helping me navigate a world I didn't always know how to. "I'll think about it. And either way, thank you. For looking out for me."
"No problem, little sis. Anything for you. You know you're my favourite person."
I scoff. "After all the other favourite people in your life, right?"
He pauses. "Shouldn't it be enough you're on the list at all?"
Can't help the laugh that gets out.
"Think about it, text me when you land on the conclusion I'm right, and I'll let the guys know." There's the sound of a key lockbox opening. "Wouldn't want you to" — pause, and I know exactly what's coming — "walk in and catch them in nothing but a towel, after all."
"You fu—"
The line cuts before I finish the sentence he fully deserves to hear.
I consider throwing my phone, but no matter how far it flies, it won't reach him.
I'll text it instead. I lie back on the car bonnet, staring up at the cloudless sky.
Six years ago, I sat in this exact spot, deciding between staying in Adelaide and leaving for Sydney.
In front of the only house I'd ever known, where Dad taught me to parallel park years before I could legally drive, where Mum sat up countless nights watching 90s reruns while I studied, working myself to the bone so I'd never have to wonder what if I'd studied for one more hour...
I'd done all the hard things put in front of me.
Except one. Well, three.
And now Leon's asking me to meet them all head-on.
I sigh.
One week. I can do one measly week, right?
I groan, arms over my face, suddenly exhausted and missing my mother.
"Is this a party for one?"
I spin so fast I nearly slide off the bonnet.
Marcus is leaning against his car, parked on the other side of the road.
I didn't even hear him pull up. Hands tucked in his pockets, one ankle crossed over the other.
I see he's taken the time to change into a different shirt.
Well, that makes one of us. Otherwise he's still dressed in some muddy jeans and work boots.
Even though it's mid-August, his skin is tan enough to tell me that whatever sun Adelaide is getting, he's out working in it.
My heart does an involuntary flip.
He tilts his head, surveying me, as if he heard what's happening in my ribcage, the corner of his mouth twitching.
"Or can anyone come?"